


And the Ideal, Drowning in Mud

by vogue91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hearing Voices, Hurt, Introspection, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: He hated them all.





	And the Ideal, Drowning in Mud

_Hi, Sammy. Do you remember me?_

He did.

He had woken up all of a sudden that night, on the right moment the inflexible face of the girl had probed his mind, shaking it.

Years.

It looked like another life, as if he wasn’t the person behind those actions, the person who had met those people.

Who was he, after all?

_What have you become, Sammy?_

Jessica’s face overlapped with Dean’s, in a sort of infernal dance which would’ve been hard to escape.

He couldn’t do it, nor he wanted to.

He would’ve followed that path, because for the first time in his whole existence he felt he held the reins of something, even though he still couldn’t catch the real implications of it.

Jessica’s pureness and candour faced, they blended in that light that had been denied to him forever, and in their place appeared the flames and passion of a demon. _His d_ emon.

His demon, whose blood had mixed with his own, in veins pulsing for it, asking for more.

_I know you want more, Sammy._

She said that hissing, with a voice coming from within, making it impossible for him to refuse. Still, even though he would’ve loved to blame his situation on her, he had to admit that addiction had woven its weft in a weak, unstable soul. And Ruby had done the rest, becoming bearer of that nectar so horribly necessary and so atrociously poisonous.

_You’ve got to get rid of it, Sammy._

Even Bobby, so little prone to compassion, looked at him as if he was a wreck, as if there was nothing human left in him.

He hated them all.

He hated the thought of Jessica, once again hanging on the ceiling, her blood spilling on his face as if it was raining.

He hated Dean, that disappointed look that he had seen too many times on his father’s face, as if he was just on the verge of making another mistake.

He hated Ruby, yet he was attracted to her in a way that was hard to explain, as if the blood running in each other’s veins had created an indestructible, unhealthy bond.

And, then, he hated himself, because the man looking at him in the mirror every day was not little Sammy, but a nameless human, the pawn in a game that was going too far.

_Sammy, Sammy, Sammy._

He heard their voices in his head, convinced he was going crazy. He wished he could’ve screamed, tearing his skin off layer by layer, telling them that he wasn’t Sammy, not anymore.

He was just Sam, a guy who kept wandering aimlessly, a soul stained by blood, in the vain attempt to wash it from his sins.

He had made fatal mistakes during his miserable existence, and those mistakes had taught him nothing at all.

He was marked by a destiny that could have been opposed, if only he had been strong enough to do so, if only he had been even a little willing.

Instead he kept following the hope that what he was doing would’ve ended up being the right thing, the hope that one day he wasn’t going to be seen as Sammy anymore, that everybody would’ve realized that inside him there was an ever-burning fire, that made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

Sam Winchester was not whole, he hadn’t been in a long time. Lots of infinitesimal parts of him travelled to the eyes of whomever looked at him, making up a jigsaw puzzle that missed too many pieces, pieces that he had forsaken down the road.

There was nothing around him anymore.

Just the redness of the blood and the black of a night long his entire life.

Without an escape, without the strength to keep fighting.

Without little Sammy, who abandoned him inexorably, in the graveyard of all the things he had sacrificed.

With him, with that guy in the mirror, there was just Sam, with his unquenchable thirst for a different life.


End file.
